


Call Me A Sinner.

by tyomawrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I don't know what's happening here I really don't, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyomawrites/pseuds/tyomawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Season 7x15: Repo Man.<br/>Placed after Season 9</p><p>Strange killings surface in a small town, so Sam, Dean, Castiel and Lucifer go down there to check it out, well technically Sam and Dean went, Cas and Lucifer dropped in halfway through their hunt. Sometimes, you learn to appreciate what you have and what you don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I think I found a case," Sam said, looking up from his laptop. "One you might actually be interested in Dean." Sam groaned looking at Dean's bored expression. Dean sat straddling his chair, leaning against the back at an angle, arms wrapping around to curl his fingers over the headrest, staring nonchalantly at Sam. Dean was kicking his leg at the air, waiting for Sam to continue.

 

"My silence is your cue." He said. Sam rolled his eyes before scrolling down the webpage.

 

"Remember when that kid, his name started with 'J' or something? Fell in love with a demon? and brought him back three years after we exorcised him?" Sam glanced up at Dean. Dean nodded, tilting his head at Sam for him to continue. "I think that's happening again Dean. Listen; 5 murders all featuring the same MO used two years ago, victims are all the same, males, mid--thirties, dark hair, blue eyes, all single and all gay."

 

"And you think we should go check it out?" Dean pulled himself up from where he sat, swinging his leg over the chair, stretching nonchalantly and grinning. "I think we have a hunt Sammy!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a job to be done, a demon to be exorcised, and – Dean glanced at the rows of alcohol, tucked away behind the bar, which contented itself in the corner of the motel – beer to be drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii guys! I'm EarlGreyandShakespeare. I don't write in the Supernatural fandom, but I have watched the first few seasons, and when ChenelleNadadith approached me with the prospect of a collab, it sounded so fun! And so, here I am, and as always, a shout out to Momo for beta-ing.

The town was quiet – deathly so – but that might have just been because they arrived, sleek black car pulling into the motel car park like a panther, stalking into a cave, just before sunrise. Sam turned his head to the horizon, where golden sunlight barely peered over the miscellaneous buildings, set into straight, neat rows, like two trains slowly chugging into the distant, empty expanse that was the desert. It seemed to the brothers an oasis of sorts; an idyllic collection of houses, surrounded on all sides by a white picket fence, boxing in beautiful roses and well-kept whitewashed buildings.

A place like this was a welcome change to the towns they so often found themselves in – small, desolated, dusty places that barely made their mark against the ground, let alone on the map. Indeed, such a beautiful place had to have its secrets and its hidden terrors (gay murders notwithstanding), yet they did not care much for their suspicions. There was a job to be done, a demon to be exorcised, and – Dean glanced at the rows of alcohol, tucked away behind the bar, which contented itself in the corner of the motel – beer to be drunk.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother as they exited the car, having noticed how he glanced at the stacks of alcohol. They entered the motel, both men noting how silent it was, how eerie the atmosphere of the town had become, so different from the indifferent expanse of the desert that boxed them on all sides. A bell rung above their heads, having been disturbed by the opening of the door. A tired woman appeared before them, her arms crossed over her chest protectively, as she eyed them cautiously.

“We would like to rent out a room for a week,” Sam began helpfully, despite the suspicious manner with which she glanced at them. Dean, smiling at her, then stepped forward, and said, “If you have any vacancies, that is.”

“Ye-yes, of course. Would you like two singles, a double, or a room for two?” she asked nervously. The brothers glanced at each other, wondering if he knew anything about the recent murders, wondering if perhaps, they could get some information from her.

“A double, please,” Dean replied smoothly. “When does the bar open?”

“From seven in the evening onwards. It closes at midnight,” the woman answered quickly, her eyes not looking up from the bundle of keys in her hands. “That will be three hundred and fifty dollars all up.”

Sam stepped forward, credit card in hand, and presented it to her. “Has anything been happening lately here? Anything… out of the normal?” he asked, almost nonchalantly.

The woman immediately stiffened, her dark hair suddenly seeming duller, even as the morning sun rose to greet them, its brightness entering the room, and blasting away the shadows of the night. Her fingers trembled, barely, as she handed him back the credit card, the transaction having made its way through the system, and having been approved by the bank.  “No, nothing of the sort has been happening here,” she smiled at them, wearily, and they could not tell if it was from the exhaustion of having to wake up at five in the morning to tend to them, or if it was the burden of having to smile despite the recent murders.

“Thank you,” Dean took the keys from the reception desk. “Before you leave, where can a pair of hungry travellers get a nice hot breakfast at this forsaken hour?”

“There is a very nice place just down the road called Rosie’s. There’s a big neon sign over it, so you can’t miss it. It opens at five, so you’re in luck. They do a really nice breakfast deal, and their milkshakes are to die for.”

“I’m sure they are,” Dean muttered as he recalled a particular case where a man had been killed in the bathrooms there. “Thank you!”

The woman had already disappeared, leaving an empty space where she had once stood. They glanced at each other, as if they could send messages telepathically, then left to find their room – 2-1. She had been so tense, so scared… They had to uncover the demon, and stop him. Before he took another victim, Sam turned around and gazed at the reception area once again. More importantly, they had to stop him before fear perpetrated the entire town. 

* * *

 Room 2-1 was neither cramped, nor spacious, having enough room for Dean to pace around as Sam booted up his laptop, before he finally gave up on standing, and flopped on his bed and turned to his brother. Sam was busy typing away, accessing the motel’s Wi-Fi for what Dean snidely referred to as ‘porn’, but they both knew it was just research for the latest case. Several times, Dean’s stomach protested at Sam’s investigation, but the younger Winchester refused to budge from where he had been rooted to his bed, legs crossed, and laptop on his lap.

“Come on, Sammy, I’m _starving_ ,” Dean reached over the bed to the bottle of beer he had found in the small refrigerator in their room. Sam barely looked up from his laptop, opting instead to snort.

“I’m busy with my _porn_ ,” he replied with a roll of his eyes, inciting a cringe from the other man.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Dean took another swig of alcohol, frowning when he found the bottle nearly empty. “Come on, man. I’m sure there’s Wi-Fi at Rosie’s.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the week.”

Sam considered the proposition for a moment, before finally nodding, “Fine.”

Dean could not hide the grin on his face as they locked the door behind them, and walked towards the Impala, sitting there in the sun, waiting for them. He sat in the driver’s seat, and fired up her engines, revelling in how she purred, in how beautiful a music it made when mixed with the metal that the cassette deck blasted out. Sam sat in the driver’s seat; a pair of sunglasses perched on the top of his head as he brought out his laptop once again, and began tapping away at the keyboard once more. 

* * *

 Rosie’s was a small diner that boasted a large sign above it; something that Sam supposed would flash in bright neon colours when the night came. Nondescript, it gave off the impression of simplicity, yet with its commonality came a sense of welcoming, of déjà-vu, and of a homeliness that could not be found in most restaurants. It had several clusters of small tables, surrounded by two or three chairs, and, they learnt, as they opened the door, an aroma of coffee that permeated the entire property.

“Hello!” a bubbly blonde woman bounced up to them, menu cards in her hands as she greeted them. “How are you? I’ll show you to a seat.”

“Thanks,” Dean smiled at her, and Sam groaned inwardly. Please let him _not_ hit on her, please, please, please. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sally. And you are?” She placed the menus before them, and flashed him a dazzling grin.

“The name’s Dean Winchester, and this here’s my younger brother, Sam.”

“Nice to meet the both of you. Feel free to call me over when you have decided on what to order.”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled at her, tight-lipped and serious. She returned his smile with a flirtatious wink, and sauntered away with a switch in her walk. He turned his gaze to Dean, who was busily inspecting the menu with much intensity, as if he was torn between two choices.

“Sam! Should I get the ‘Super Duper Large Breakfast Meal’, or the ‘Waffle Spectacular’?”

“Uhhh which one sounds better?”

Dean looked unimpressed with him, “If I knew, would I be asking you?”

“Touché. The Super… Duper Large Breakfast sounds like something you would get.”

“Right. That it is.”

“Anyway, you aren’t seriously thinking about boning _her_ are you?” Sam leant in and whispered to the other Winchester. “Seriously, what about Cas? You are not having sex in the motel room, by the way. No way in hell.”

“I was just playing around, seriously! I wasn’t even flirting that much with her,” Dean said defensively.

“I think little Miss Barbie over there,” Sam gestured to the woman, who perked up and giggled and waved at the duo, “thinks otherwise.”

Dean lifted an eyebrow at his words, and Sam took his menu and put it to the side, revealing a napkin, upon which a string of numbers was printed in sparkly pink gel ink. Dean shrugged off the revelation, opting instead to gesture to the blonde girl and beckon her to come and take their orders.

“So, what can I get for you two gentlemen today?” she asked, every bit as perky and loud as she had been the moment they stepped into the restaurant. Sam had to admit; she was a looker, with the graceful manner which her waist nipped inward, and the sensual manner which her hips flared out. She wore a simple white button down shirt, which clung somewhat to her figure, but was loose enough to give off the impression of innocence.

“I will be having the Super Duper breakfast,” Dean said, pointing at the menu for her reference. She jotted down the order, before turning to Sam.

“Will you be having anything today?”

“Yes, the waffles with maple syrup please,” he replied. “And a pot of coffee for our table.”

“Will that be all?” she asked as she collected their menus.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Say, Sally, has anything happened recently in this town? Anything out of the norm?”

“What makes you say that?” the girl smiled, yet it lacked the usual brightness, and seemed more than a little forced.

“Oh, nothing much,” he smiled. “It’s just that the lady at the motel seemed a little off when we saw her.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. She probably went to bed late or something.”

“I see, thank you.”

She left, and they exchanged looks with one another. Why was nobody speaking to them? Were the murders impacting on the town so greatly that they would go through any lengths to cover them up? There were so many questions, and yet, as they heard bacon sizzling on the fryer, and as Sally approached them with a pot of coffee, they were in mutual agreement that such thinking could wait for later.


End file.
